


Souvenir

by sorteparaplyer



Series: Kinkmeme Fills [13]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Caretaking, Diapers, Dissociation, Gen, Guilt, Possession, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29760159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorteparaplyer/pseuds/sorteparaplyer
Summary: The long-term effects of possession are starting to scramble Klaus' brain. Unfortunately, the siblings are so happy to have Ben back that they don't notice until the damage is done. All they can do then is try their best to take care of him and hope it makes up for the guilt they feel.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves
Series: Kinkmeme Fills [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1450708
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for an [umbrellakink](https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/) prompt made [here](https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/284.html?thread=1251356#cmt1251356)

“Please,” Klaus begs. “Please, please!”

Luther watches, his head tilted, as Klaus writhes on the floor. He appears to be in some sort of hysterical fit, or maybe just the throes of a wild display of theatrics. Possibly a seizure, since apparently he gets those now. But who can tell with Klaus? It never turns out to be anything serious.

“He’s hurting me!” Klaus blurts. “Please, someone, help me… Make him stop!” He continues to flail, crying for help despite the fact that there’s clearly no one around who could possibly be hurting him.

It occurs to Luther that ghosts are invisible, that if there were any ghosts around he wouldn’t be able to see them. And ghosts are supposed to be Klaus’ whole deal. It’s easy to forget, since he got so used to Klaus’ power being a nonfactor on their missions. But supposedly Klaus has been tapping back into his powers. According to Diego, he’s even learned to channel Ben’s spirit through his body. Luther doesn’t actually believe that’s true.

Klaus smacks himself in the head, even as he continues to convulse on the rug. “Shut up,” he barks, his voice suddenly flat and impatient. “You’re so dramatic.”

Luther sighs. This is the kind of drug-addled nonsense that forced him to factor out Klaus’ powers in the first place. And the rest of his brothers and sisters really believe Klaus is sober, that Ben has been able to possess him? Just because Klaus manages to pull himself together long enough to fool them into his ruse?

Luther doesn’t cope well with change, so it’s almost comforting in a way that Klaus is still just Klaus.


	2. Chapter 2

The shift from Ben to Klaus is obvious, now that Luther has had a month to get used to it. His posture becomes more casual and relaxed; looser, and yet more guarded. Although maybe that’s just with Luther, because it took him so long to believe Klaus could actually use his powers. He feels bad about that now. 

Klaus doesn’t seem guarded now though. He doesn’t even seem to be aware of his surroundings. His shoulders slump, and then he keeps on slumping until he sags right onto the floor. 

No one is paying him any attention. With Ben gone, the family is already drifting off through the house, going their separate ways until dinner is ready. But Luther doesn’t have anywhere to be, so he lingers, staring at Klaus on the floor. “You okay, Klaus?” he asks, after a minute.

Klaus just lies there, whimpering softly, showing no sign of having heard Luther. Typical. These days he seems to prefer saying nothing at all to cracking wise.

Luther watches a little while longer, waiting for Klaus to give it up, but Klaus doesn’t move. His whimpering slowly peters out until Luther assumes he’s fallen asleep. It’s far from the first time he’s seen Klaus passed out on the living room floor. He knows from experience that eventually Pogo will find him and get him into some pajamas. Being Number One came with lots of important jobs, but that was never one of them. It’d be a better use of his time to help Grace in the kitchen.

It’s only when Grace sends him to fetch Klaus for dinner that Luther realizes he’s still lying in the same spot on the living room floor. “Klaus?” Luther asks, creeping closer. “Klaus, are you…?”

Klaus pries open his eyes, blinks up at Luther. He pushes himself up on an elbow, then looks around like his surroundings are unfamiliar to him. “What…”

“Dinner’s ready,” Luther says. “Come eat.”

“Oh.” Klaus slowly gets his feet under him. Luther ignores the way his legs wobble.

They both amble into the dining room to take their seats at the table. It’s stir fry tonight, and Luther can’t wait to dig in. Luckily whoever set the table remembered to give him a fork. He never learned to use chopsticks when he was younger, and since the accident his fingers are too large. 

Klaus, however, picks up his chopsticks like they’re an extension of his hand. Which they practically are, because Luther knows Klaus is a sushi eating machine. But then he watches as Klaus fumbles bite after bite, clumsily trying to control the two sticks in his fingers. Every time he manages to get a hold of a piece of chicken or broccoli, it falls back to his bowl before it reaches his mouth. And yet Klaus doesn’t stop trying. In fact he barely seems to realize how much he’s struggling. He doesn’t even seem to notice how many times he’s already tried to perform the same motion without any success.

Wordlessly, Luther reaches over and slides him his fork.

“Oh, thanks, big guy,” Klaus says, smiling wide. He lets the sticks clatter to the table and takes up the fork. There’s still a clumsiness to the way he handles it, but it’s not so bad that Klaus can’t eat his dinner.

Something is niggling at Luther, telling him that something is wrong here. But as he looks around the table, no one else seems worried at all. The others are much better at reading social situations, so if none of them are reacting, then Klaus’ behavior must not be concerning. He excuses himself to grab another fork from the cutlery drawer.

When he comes back, Klaus is sitting with his shoulders squared and his back straight. The fork is set aside, and Ben is holding the chopsticks easily in Klaus’ hand. No one seems to think twice about the discarded fork, engrossed as they are in conversation.

Ben keeps hold of the possession until dinner is over. Then Klaus sags against the table, cradling his head in folded arms. “I wish you’d all make him stop,” he says, though his voice is so hoarse and weak that Luther isn’t sure he heard him correctly.

“Don’t be selfish,” Five says, in a perfunctory sort of way.

“Oh, of course,” Klaus laughs sardonically. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

There’s that sarcastic tone that Luther expects from Klaus, though there’s none of Klaus’ usual theatrical flair. 

Everyone gets up to take their dishes to the kitchen until, once again, Luther is alone with Klaus. 

“I know they do,” Klaus mutters, gingerly massaging his temple. “It just hurts, is all. It hurts, and it makes me… makes my brain… hurt.” There’s a pause, and then Klaus heaves a defeated sigh. “I know,” he whimpers.

Klaus and Ben are having a private conversation, Luther thinks. He must be fine. He shouldn’t intrude.

“Klaus?” 

Luther waits, but Klaus gives no indication that he’s aware of Luther’s presence. “Um, Klaus, you…” 

Urine is still dripping from the chair onto the floor, into the growing puddle beneath him. Luther wrinkles his nose as he stoops to try to catch Klaus’ eye. “Are you in there, Klaus?” 

Still nothing. Luther hesitates. And then he goes to find Allison.

Allison tries, but Klaus doesn’t respond to her either. She takes Klaus’ chin and angles it gently up towards her face. His eyes blink, but they don’t focus. She looks right into them and sees nothing. No recognition. No awareness of the fact that he’s wet himself. Not even any discomfort at sitting in his own piss.

Icy panic begins to twist in Allison’s stomach. “Okay,” she starts, fighting to keep her tone light. “For now we’ll just concentrate on the task at hand.” She’ll help her brother. She’ll clean him up, and she’ll try not to fret about the emptiness in his eyes. Accidents are nothing new to her. Claire had plenty while she was being potty trained. The best thing to do is act neutral, to simply take care of it and move on. She takes a deep breath and says, “okay, let’s get you cleaned up, Klaus.”

She doesn’t wait for a response. She just reaches for his hands, gently tugs him forward until he rises from the chair to stand in front of her. “Good,” she says. “I’m going to take off your dirty clothes, and then we’re going to put something dry on.” She turns to Luther, who’s hovering nervously nearby. “I need towels for the floor and something to change him into.” 

Luther disappears in the direction of the bathroom, and Allison turns back to Klaus. She doesn’t think about the fact that her brother Klaus has been completely silent so far, just standing here still and unresponsive even as she kneels to unbutton his fly. Just a few weeks ago, Klaus would have been crowing about this, rattling off jokes like he couldn’t spit them out fast enough.

Now Klaus seems totally unaware of the fact that she’s peeling his pants down his skinny, skinny legs, all the way to his ankles. “Lift your foot up,” Allison says, less because she expects Klaus to obey and more because she’s still in mom mode. She wraps her hand around his toothpick thin ankle and pulls it up, hoping he’ll instinctively lift his foot the way he’d let her guide him up from the chair.

He does pick up his foot, and Allison unhooks his pantleg from his heel. But then he loses his balance and falls over, hitting the floor with a hard smack.

The pained whimper he lets out is so distressed and confused that it breaks Allison’s heart.

She leaves him on the floor while she quickly strips the rest of his wet clothes. He lies there, bare ass on the cold hardwood, with the same lack of awareness he’s had for the last few weeks.

And okay, Allison will finally admit that she’s noticed. She’s noticed how blank his eyes have been, how quiet he’s become. And she knows something’s wrong. God, of course she knows. Clearly something happened. To his brain, to his body. Something that wasn’t wrong before they all told Ben to stick around. It was just easier to pretend, to hope, that everything was fine. Now she can’t think beyond _we all knew it was hurting him_. 

Luther returns then, handing her a bundle of clothes from Klaus’ room. He doesn’t question why Klaus is lying naked on the floor. He just sinks to his knees and wordlessly begins to lay towels over the puddle of urine. 

Allison directs Klaus’ feet into his underwear and draws them up his legs. Then she pulls on the pants. They’re too big for him, waistband loose around his bony hips, but they should stay on. She puts socks on his feet, and then gathers his wet clothes into a pile with the wet towels. 

She puts the pile in the washing machine and washes her hands. On her way back, she finds Luther carrying Klaus into the sitting room. Luther puts him down on a sofa in front of the fireplace. Klaus doesn’t acknowledge him. He doesn’t even move.

Allison and Luther sit down on the opposite sofa. The room is silent. They stare at Klaus, and blank, unfocused eyes stare back at them.

“Let’s make some coffee,” Allison says, and she pulls Luther up with her before he can argue.

“Do you think Klaus will know we left him alone?”

“I… kind of hope not.”

Allison busies herself with the coffee maker while Luther slides into a chair. It creaks loudly in the heavy silence of the room. Then, “do you know if he’s taking care of himself?” Luther asks. “Besides, you know, the accident.”

“I don’t know,” Allison says, frowning. “Probably not.”

“Have you seen him eat anything lately?”

Allison’s frown deepens. “Not that I noticed.”

“He stopped using forks a couple weeks ago,” Luther says, looking sheepish. “It was like, like he couldn’t figure out how to use them anymore. I asked Grace to start cutting his food for him so he could eat with a spoon.” He takes a breath. “When he stopped showing up for dinner I thought maybe he was embarrassed of his hands.”

Allison turns to look at him. “You _knew_ something was wrong with him?”

Luther’s huge shoulders draw up towards his ears. “I figured it was because of the drugs! His hands used to shake all the time when he was high, remember? How was I supposed to know he would wet himself?”

Allison plants her hands on her hips. “Well, maybe he never would’ve if you’d _said_ something, Luther. You see your brother suddenly can’t use a fork anymore, you gotta say something. We could’ve gotten him help.”

Luther hangs his head, and Allison immediately feels bad. For all the work she’s done to try to be a better sibling, it’s still easier to lash out and lay blame.

“That wasn’t fair,” she says, dropping into a chair beside him. “I noticed how he was just staring into space all the time, but I told myself he was just deep in thought. I didn’t want to admit to myself that it was off.”

Luther takes her hand, and she knows he’s accepted her apology.

“Anyways, if he hasn’t been eating, I’m sure Ben would take over and eat something for him.”

Luther doesn’t respond at first. Then he asks, “why didn’t Ben tell us something was wrong?”

The question gives Allison pause. She hadn’t thought much of it, but Ben has made himself scarce recently. It’s been a while since she’s seen him. “Maybe he was afraid we wouldn’t want to see him again, if we knew it was hurting Klaus,” she says. “Maybe he thought we’d blame him.”

Luther nods. “Maybe he hopes Klaus will get better if he doesn’t possess him anymore.”

“Maybe,” Allison says, and she squeezes his shoulder as she gets up to pour the coffee.

“Allison,” Diego says. “I, uh—”

“You what, Diego?”

“Klaus is still having accidents, right?”

Allison exhales a deep sigh. It’s been three days of changing clothes and sopping up puddles, wondering if Ben is gone for good and if she’ll ever forgive herself for caring more about her dead brother than the alive one. Her hope that the problem might get better is pretty much gone. “Yeah,” she says. “He is.”

Diego holds up the plastic shopping bag in his hand, pulls out a package of diapers. “I just thought, I don’t know, maybe he might need…”

Allison looks at the package. “You want Klaus to wear a diaper?”

Diego cringes. “He can’t control his bladder, Allison. Do you _like_ mopping up his piss? Would you rather just put plastic over all the furniture and let him wet himself?”

Allison just shakes her head. She knows Diego’s right, that Klaus needs the protection. It’s just… hard to picture Klaus needing something like that.

“I t-told Ben to stay in Klaus’ body,” Diego says. “I didn’t know it was hurting him. I didn’t know it was going to— damage his brain or whatever. But I knew Klaus didn’t like it. I never should’ve…”

“Diego, it’s not your fault.”

His eyes are suddenly glassy, catching the light from the fireplace. “I just don’t want him to be uncomfortable. A diaper’s less humiliating than constantly pissing on everything, right?”

Allison nods. “Yeah, Diego, you’re right,” she says. “I’m sure Klaus would prefer it.”

Diego huffs a laugh. “Yeah, the bastard would probably get off on it.”

Allison laughs, but then her smile fades as she takes the package of diapers. “He probably won’t even know he’s wearing them,” she says.

Diego hasn’t seen Ben in weeks. Or rather, he hasn’t been able to enjoy his company for weeks. Ben has shown up occasionally here and there, mostly to walk Klaus’ body out of immediate danger. But other than that, they seem to all agree that Ben should stay out of Klaus’ body.

In a way, Diego feels like he’s mourning two brothers. He knows that’s not fair. He mourned Ben the first time around, just like everyone else did. And it’s not like Klaus is dead. But it’s been… a rollercoaster, finding out Ben was still around, and then getting the chance to spend time with him again. And now knowing that he’s there, but they can’t make contact for Klaus’ sake… 

Thank Christ that Klaus is starting to get better. It’s taken weeks, but he’s slowly coming back to himself a little. He’s present and aware more often than not, even if he isn’t quite the same as he was before. 

It saves Diego from wondering: if Klaus had remained absent from his own body, would Diego have wanted Ben to take over permanently?

It doesn’t keep him from wondering: if Klaus stays like this forever—functioning, but not normal—would he rather have Ben?

As far as Diego is concerned, it’s still a loss to know that Klaus is aware of himself without quite being himself. He’s too quiet, too timid, and still so helpless.

He never wanted any of this to happen.

“Alright,” Diego says. “Come on, bro.” He pulls Klaus up from the chair and leads him over to the bed, where he lays him down on his back. He holds up the diaper for Klaus, watching closely to see if his eyes focus. Some days they do and some days they don’t. Today they do. “I’m going to put this on you, okay?”

Klaus looks at him. “Wet?”

“Yeah, dude,” Diego says. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Okay.”

Klaus lets Diego open the wet diaper and pull it out from under him. He’s cooperative as Diego puts the clean one on, but it never seems to occur to him to help or just do it himself. Diego doesn’t hold it against him. He’s not sure how much Klaus still understands. “All set,” he says, as he fastens the tabs. He pulls Klaus’ pants back up to his waist. “Are you hungry?”

Klaus shakes his head.

“We’ll get you something small then.” He takes Klaus’ hand and leads him towards the door. “Come on.”


End file.
